


Expert Advice

by notwisely



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9838289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notwisely/pseuds/notwisely
Summary: Katsuki distracts Yuri because Katsuki is secretly awful, and also because, Otabek suspects, Katsuki genuinely, bafflingly, believes that Viktor is some sort of relationship savant.





	

Katsuki distracts Yuri because Katsuki is secretly _awful_ , and also because, Otabek suspects, Katsuki genuinely, bafflingly, believes that Viktor is some sort of relationship savant. _Viktor_ believes Viktor is some sort of relationship savant, but Viktor’s boundless, overwhelming faith in himself is matched only by the boundless, overwhelming catastrophe of his romantic endeavors.

_His idea of a romantic gesture is to show up naked at your parents’ house!_ Otabek thinks furiously at Katsuki. It is completely ineffectual. Katsuki and Yuri are still deep in conversation on the other side of the banquet hall, heads bent close together. Otabek is still being backed into a corner by a terrifyingly enthusiastic Viktor Nikiforov. _I bet they’re discussing what a maladjusted asshole you are._ He thinks uncharitably.

“Don’t worry, Otabek!” Viktor says, beaming. “I have a plan!” He pauses, contemplative. “How many candles do you think there are in this hotel?”

He moves to put his hands on Otabek’s shoulders, and Otabek ducks away neatly. Viktor honest-to-god pouts. It’s appalling. Otabek only lets the second attempt succeed because he doesn’t want to see what Viktor’s next tactic would be.

“Now,” Viktor says, putting his face disconcertingly close to Otabek’s, “let’s talk about _love_.”

“Love.” _Oh god_.

“Yes!” Viktor’s smile broadens and he slides a conspiratorial arm over Otabek’s shoulders. “Our Yurio is a shy butterfly, a reluctant flower, a trembling blossom.” Viktor stares off into the distance, one fist clenched, as he exhales with determination. “Only the grandest declaration will win him over. You will overwhelm him with the force of your love!”

Otabek, who once witnessed Yuri bite a man’s arm after one too many unwelcome autograph requests, then sat with him through the ensuing panic over diseases he might have unwittingly swallowed, thinks that the only reason Yuri would ever tremble is from sheer, unadulterated rage. Rage, for example, induced by a loud, public declaration of love. He’s about to say as much, when Viktor continues.

“The secret is to discover the path to his heart! Once you’ve found what is dearest to him, failure is impossible. Just last week I wooed my Yuuri with my delicious, delicious cooking!”

Wooing, Otabek feels, is probably unnecessary after the purchase of wedding rings, but he’s utterly unsurprised that Viktor Nikiforov would take on the challenge. The more questionable part of that claim is “You. Cooking.” Otabek says.

Viktor’s expression takes on a distinctly guilty tint. “There _was_ cooking.”

“Did you buy food from a restaurant and pretend that you made it?” Otabek asks, now genuinely curious about the long con Viktor has apparently been running on his husband.

“No!” Victor says, appalled. “I would never betray Yuuri’s confidence with _store-bought_ food!” He pauses. “His Mama made it. But listen! There are more important issues here. What do you think Yurio would like? I have a friend who could loan you a flock of live doves!”

“No!” Otabek bursts out, horrified.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Viktor nods, “birds are not Yurio’s favorite. Live tigers?”

Otabek stares at Viktor, who purses his lips thoughtfully.

“A synchronized flash mob?

“A hot air balloon!

“ _Ten_ hot air balloons?”

Otabek shakes his head no and no again, in mute disbelief. He simply doesn’t understand how anyone who has even a passing acquaintance with Yuri could believe these are good ideas. Viktor frowns, disapproving. “Otabek, you must give me something to work with here. It’s as if you have no _soul_.”

He can’t help the flinch, then, _“Do you feel anything?”_ and _“Look at him, it’s like he’s made of stone,”_ echoing through his head, as coach after coach declares him _too stiff_ and _utterly emotionless_.

“How does Katsuki put _up_ with you?” He snaps, suddenly furious.

Viktor startles, then his brow furrows as if he’s contemplating being offended, but his expression softens into something that could be called apologetic. “Well,” his eyes drift across the room, fixing on where Katsuki is still explaining something to Yuri, hands moving in some complicated gesture that Otabek desperately hopes is non-sexual. Yuri is watching with his eyes narrowed in the way that Otabek knows means he is both entertained and annoyed by the fact that he is entertained. Katsuki leans in to whisper something, and it startles Yuri into bright, unguarded laughter, head thrown back and eyes crinkled shut. Something warm and golden swells in Otabek’s chest—only to be crushed immediately by a wave of panic. He jerks his eyes back to Viktor, who is staring at Katsuki, of course. But the look on his face is something different, something so open and tender that Otabek has to look away.

“Well, what?” He says. Viktor glances back, surprised, suddenly remembering where he is.

“Well, I asked him to.” And Viktor smiles, warm, nothing like his manic grin from before.

“That easy?” Otabek says, aiming for cynical and landing dangerously close to hopeful instead.

Viktor only winks (as obnoxiously as ever, part of Otabek notes). As if by magic, or some sixth sense, Katsuki appears, lacing his fingers through Viktor’s with unthinking ease. He smiles at Otabek, a clear _I told you so_ in the tilt of his mouth. As they walk away, Viktor turns and yells “ _Davai!_ ” with an appalling lack of subtlety, and Katuski’s smile becomes more encouraging. It quiets the mess of feelings in Otabek’s stomach, at least temporarily.

“Was that Viktor?” Yuri slinks up next to Otabek a moment later, nonchalantly maneuvering so that Otabek has to either slide an arm around him or stand with his arm uncomfortably caught between their bodies. Otabek would have expected Yuri’s presence to reawaken the panic, the frantic fluttering of _what if_ s in his mind. Instead, looking down at where Yuri is glowering suspiciously after Viktor while aggressively pretending he isn’t leaning into Otabek’s side, he feels the remaining uncertainty drain away.

“Yeah.” He shifts slightly so he can pet Yuri’s head a little, fingers combing through the fine golden strands.

“What did he want? Was he giving you skating tips?” Yuri’s voice is still mistrustful, but the tension is starting to slide from his shoulders.

Otabek smiles. “Yeah. Just some advice from an expert.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh god this is my first time please be gentle
> 
> ETA: ALSO i'm pretty sure my subconscious cribbed the flash mob from lazulisong's [home is when I'm alone with you](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8689450) so uh. credit.... there? how come no one mentions that writing fic comes with an all-encompassing paranoia that you're just taking other people's words and stirring them around a little
> 
> & i am [on tumblr](http://not-wisely.tumblr.com/)!


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